A Lifelong Love Letter
by meetmeinstlouie
Summary: "Tell the world that we finally got it all right/I choose you." Based off of the song by Sara Bareilles, "I Choose You". One shot.


**A/N: This is based off of the song "I Choose You" by Sara Bareilles.**

 **Credit for the inspiration must be given to fuzzydream, who wrote "Love Me Like You Do". I had that song in my head for weeks after reading that, and can never hear it now without thinking of Banna.**

The cold is so intense during January that the trees crack, branches come down crashing. Sun, what little of it we get, fades to a dark sky before tea-time.

I don't notice.

Scotland is farther north than Yorkshire; the dark days of winter are something to which I've long been accustomed. But the light in my beloved's eyes is something wholly new. The gleam in his eye when he wishes me good morning. The twinkle in his eye when he catches my gaze from the hallway as he sits in the pantry. The flicker, like a flame, as we say goodnight at the bottom of the stairs.

I live by that light now, whereas before I thought it was only a dream. _I thought you'd never ask_.

We've spent most of our lives existing side by side. Separately. To exist as one unit, as one-half of each other is exhilarating. I continue to try to express what I could not for so many years. I'm not sure I can string together the right words. He smiles, understanding all too well the downside of a lifetime of propriety, of duty. I laugh and tell him if we can ever find the first words, he should write me a love letter. He responds that such a letter would be a very long one.

We've talked about Alice and Joe, and how feeble our past attachments seem in light of our present engagement. We laugh about our first years together. The battles between us, how we stumbled in our relationship, then found solid footing in friendship. A friendship which slowly blossomed into love.

Everyone at Downton, in our world, knows now that we finally got it all right. How he chooses me to spend the rest of his days with. How I choose him. _"Because there's one thing I do know...I'm not marrying anyone else." "Of course I'll marry you, you old booby!"_

When I first loved him, I cannot say. It was not a comforting feeling; I had every reason to believe that he considered me a friend only. I buried my heart the best I could. For Mr. Carson to love me was an illusion. Fairy tales and happily-ever-afters were for others, not for spinster housekeepers. Not for me.

Then I had my cancer scare.

The way he spoke to me in those days told me that he was worried. I was overwhelmed by my own fears at times. The last thing I wanted to do was to believe he cared for me more than just a friend. It wasn't until Mrs. Patmore and I returned from the doctor that everything changed. Hearing him sing as he polished the silver. _"Dashing away with a smoothing iron/She stole my heart away.."_

I began to believe again.

It was easier in a way afterwards to believe, to hope. I felt I had been given a gift. A second chance to give my heart freely. After the horror of losing Lady Sybil and Mr. Crawley, I felt bolder. I knew that he would never move forward by himself; it has never been his way. I would have to nudge him. So that day at the beach I held out my hand. When he took it, I knew it was only a matter of time. I knew then that he loved me, even if he could not say it.

No relationship is perfect. We've had many years to learn from past mistakes. He is a vulnerable man, despite his confident bearing. For the rest of the time we have, for as long as it takes, I will always tell him what he means to me. That he has been, and is, my best friend. That I love him.

When we hold hands in the evenings, I can barely concentrate on drinking my sherry. The gentle pressure of his fingers on mine is enough to send my heart racing. Parts of me that have been dormant for a lifetime are awakening and I am underprepared for how strong the physical yearning for him would be. I know he's heard my breath hitch more than once. I used to think such thoughts and feelings would make me improper, a wanton woman. I don't now, not anymore.

Charles says that he's never felt this way either. He doesn't need to tell me that his feelings are just as strong. The way his hands slip just below my waist when we kiss, his thumbs pressing into my hips. His soft lips on mine. The week of our wedding his lips find a spot below my left ear. A sound I did not know I could make comes out of my mouth, and he moans in reply. For once, I am the one to step back, biting my lip and fighting the urge to tear his coat off.

When our hands are joined at the church, his voice wavers slightly as he recites his vows. It isn't fear, but emotion that makes him pause once. My eyes glimmer with tears; I am his and he is mine.

At last.

I am not frightened on our wedding night. My husband is gentle and considerate; I am amazed at his selflessness. I am more than willing to give him pleasure that he has been for so long denied. It is even better for me. I get to be his other half, in body as well as in law.

Afterward, we lay together and he plays with my hair as I caress his bare chest. He asks me what I am thinking. I tell him that if I could do it all over, I would change nothing. That I would choose him.

 _I choose you_.


End file.
